The Lecter Legacy: The Beginning
by stagsinsilence
Summary: Cannibalism is a lonely business, so what is better than making it a family one? Hannibal managed to save Mischa on that cold, dark night in the cabin, but the events that happened changed both of them forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** In light of a plot discovery for the NBC series, I have tweaked this chapter to fit a little better not only in general, but also in terms of the show.

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Hannibal Lecter was boiling beneath his thin jacket, his rage heating him thoroughly despite the deathly cold of the small cabin. The wind whipped violently outside, but the young man could not hear a single thing outside of the incredulous thumping of his heart. The blood in his ears was deafening as his eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall.

"Hannibal! Hannibal, help me!" Mischa's screams sounded impossibly distant with the quality of travelling through water; slow and heavy as if time were losing pace with itself.

The three men in the cabin with them were old farmhands from the Lecter household, fired when they caught stealing from the family manor. They had caught the children off guard and whisked them away in an attempt to get a hefty ransom for the return of the children. But the men had overestimated the price someone would be willing to pay for children orphaned by the Cold War, and now they were all hungry, angry, and trapped in close quarters by the malevolent winter storm outside.

Being the animals they were, it was only a matter of time before the men would want to claim the little innocence sweet, young Mischa Lecter had left in her tiny body. Hannibal had known this would happen from the start, but he did not know just how to handle the situation when it should arrive. Two of the men had begun to tear at his younger sister's clothing like dogs tearing through the wrappings on a fresh cut steak. The sight was horrific as the third radical watched hungrily, forcing Hannibal to do the same.

"NO! STOP, PLEASE!" Mischa screamed again as the top of her dress tore clean in two, and one of her assailants slapped her.

Years would pass and only nightmares of what _might_ have happened would remain, but for now the world had become clear. The crack of the worker's hand against his sweet sister's gentle face seemed to echo in the room and Hannibal turned feral, his anger no longer capable of being contained.

The motions of the young man were fast and fluid as he wrenched himself free and attacked the man holding him viciously and without any hint of mercy. In the chaos of the moment, the other two were distracted enough for Mischa to squirm away and make it to the table where a long hunting knife sat. The child held it between her small hands and rushed the man who had slapped her.

As the knife sunk snuggly into the man's back, Hannibal was squeezing the last bit of life out of the man who had held him back. The sound that tore through Hannibal's throat was inhuman, a sound of pure rage and bloodlust, as his nails dug into already bruising flesh. The man's eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his face had gone a deep purple as the last glimmer of life painfully faded away.

Hannibal would have most certainly remained as he was to admire the death if he hadn't heard Mischa cry out in fear. He turned sharply to see the stabbed man on the ground and sole surviving farmhand backing Mischa into a corner. Hannibal rushed the man himself, both falling to the ground in a flurry of feet and fists. Hannibal grabbed the man's cheek between his teeth, and tore back flesh deep enough to expose muscle and bone beneath. The kidnapper screamed in pain as Hannibal gained the upper hand, pinning him to the ground.

"Mischa, get the knife," he snarled, doing his best to try and strangle the man beneath him.

The girl ran towards the stabbed body and shakily tried to pull out the knife lodged deep in the cold flesh.

Hannibal was losing the adrenaline fueling his body, and the man beneath him was far larger. He rolled with ease, pinning Hannibal against the cold wooden floor.

"Mischa, hurry!"

The man grabbed the matted hair on the young man's head and slammed it back, hard. Hannibal saw spots instantly but kept struggling to regain power.

"Entitled brat! You think you can win against a real man?!" The farmhand yelled like an angry drunk, blood and spit falling down onto Hannibal face. The man continued to slam his victim's head into the floor and he was starting to grow dizzy with the early symptoms of a concussion. He tasted his own blood filling his mouth now, and the black spots clouding his vision were growing larger by the second...

"Real men are not like you."

Hannibal barely heard Mischa's whispered curse, but her tone was ferocious and piercing none the less. Hannibal didn't even see her move as he was blinded by red.

The warmth of the blood hit Hannibal first and then the smell filled him as it all poured out in a torrential downpour from the large slit across the man's throat. Realizing what had just happened, Hannibal pushed the limp body from on top of him and sat up. Catching a glimpse of his half-naked, blood drenched sister with a knife in her hand, the young man fell back again and laughed.

It was a hysterical laugh of shock and relief. His head was pounding, and the wetness of his own blood soaked clothes was beginning to chill him through, but he was alive enough to feel it. Mischa rushed to her darling brother's side, pushing his hair from his face, worry covering her own more so than the blood.

"Brother, why are you laughing?"

Hannibal smiled as he listened to the intact innocence in the child's voice, "Because, sweet sister, we are alive and we are together."

"We killed three men... Three men who we _knew_."

Slowly, Hannibal sat up again and pulled his sister close. "We protected one another from wild animals. Pigs in men's clothing. We simply put them to slaughter. A fate far more than generous for the likes of them."

Mischa said nothing as her brother smiled down at her. She shook from the cold and Hannibal held her closer to warm her. They sat shivering on the hardwood floor for quite some time, glad to be alive while fighting through the shock of what they both had done.

"I will deal with them in the morning, _saldüs vienas_. For now we need to rest. To dream of our future away from this hell."

Mischa nodded, burying her face in Hannibal's chest. "Promise you'll stay with me forever."

Hannibal gently pushed his sister from her place in his chest and kissed her forehead. He did his best to wipe blood and tears alike from her face while admiring how beautiful she was. Her crystal grey eyes were so unlike his own mahogany ones. They made her appear forever wide-eyed and curious, always so innocent and pure like the colour of the sky during the first snowfall. In the privacy of his mind, Hannibal swore his life to protect that innocence.

"Hannibal?"

"Yes?"

"I said promise you'll stay with me."

"Forever and always, my love."

Hannibal kissed her cheek as Mischa hugged him tightly. Carefully, he stood and carried her to the cot by the small wood stove. He placed the girl on the grimy sheets and wrapped her tightly in the moth-eaten blanket. Hannibal covered the holes by placing his jacket overtop as an extra layer before returning to the bodies across the room. Carefully, he removed the jacket from the strangled man and wrapped himself in it. In the short time it took for him to cross back to the cot, his sweet Mischa was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rose sharply through uncovered windows and woke 15-year-old Hannibal Lecter with something of a start. After living in fear for the last several days, the idea of sleeping without threat from their captors was not something that Hannibal had thought much about.

He turned to see his 8-year-old sister still sleeping soundly beside him, and the sight made him smile softly. His smile was not long lasting, however, as images of the previous night came rushing back. The heat in his veins, the feeling of strangling the life out of someone, the numbing euphoria of saving Mischa. Although the memories were a cocktail of good and bad emotions, the reality of it all was making Hannibal's stomach turn... or maybe that was the hunger.

Another quick look at the sleeping girl reminded the young man of his vow to take care of her. He made his way to the bodies on the other side of the room, fighting his flipping stomach with every step. He had killed animals, of course - what wealthy young man _doesn't_ go hunting? - but never a human being before. The corpses looks like discarded toys from a distance, crumpled on the floor in a heap of stiff limbs. The closer he got, the more he noticed about the bodies; the blue tinge of their pale skin, the blackness of the dried blood around open wounds, the pain frozen into their dull eyes. His face scrunched up as if a foul smell had wafted his way, but it was the rage and disgust filling him that wrinkled his nose.

Once again, Hannibal felt his anger bubble up inside of him and he began to kick furiously at the corpses. Their ridged forms rolled heavily with each kick. The young man almost wished they were still alive to feel his wrath, to make the sounds Hannibal craved to hear. He wanted them to beg for their lives the way they made Mischa before he could beat them to death with his bare hands.

After several long, exhausting moments, Hannibal's wrath subsided and his breathing became laboured. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, annoyed for losing his self-control.

"Hannibal?"

The small voice caught him off guard and he spun around quickly to see Mischa wrapping his coat around herself on the edge of the cot.

"Hannibal, what happened?"

"Nothing, Mischa. Go back to sleep." He looked away as he spoke, not wanting his sweet sister to see the burning anger still in his eyes.

"You were making animal noises... like a monkey..."

Hannibal continued to avoid looking at the girl as he racked his brain for some kind of explanation to give. He was so worried about frightening her, so completely lost in his thoughts of keeping her sage, that he didn't notice Mischa get out of bed until he felt her arms around him.

"Mischa, I told you to go back to sleep," he whispered, removing her arms from his waist to crouch to her eye level. "Everything is alright."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

"You're a liar," Mischa glared as she poked her brother's cheek. "A liar who's crying."

Hannibal pulled himself away, standing as he wiped at his eyes.

"I want to help."

"No, Mischa. It's not your job to help me with this."

"It's not your job either." Mischa held her brother's gaze with determination, the look meaning there would be no way of getting the girl to let it go. "I'm old enough to help."

Hannibal sighed and ruffled her blood-crusted hair, "That you are... Go get some firewood, then. As much as you can carry. You can put it by that stove."

Mischa smiled and dashed to the back door of the cabin.

"Mischa, wait."

The girl turned, eyes wide with ever-present curiosity. She watched intently as Hannibal went to the cot and grabbed the blanket When he came over to her, he tied it around Mischa's neck like a cape.

"There. You need to stay warm." He then reached up and unlocked the door. "If you see anyone, come back inside and hide."

"Why?"

"Because someone might be looking for these pigs." Hannibal gestured to the corpses.

"And what about you?"

"Don't worry about me."

With Mischa gathering wood from the little shed in the back, Hannibal went about moving their victims into the front yard of the property. He first went through their pockets, discovering a small handful of coins, and what appeared to be several pieces of stolen jewellery. He stuffed his own pockets with the findings and dragged the corpses into the front yard. Moving them was exhausting as it was, but Hannibal's work was no where near finished. He'd need something bigger than the hunting knife to deal with this and had a feeling he knew where to find just what he was looking for.

Running around the small cottage he spotted his sister struggling with a towering pile of wood.

" _Šindelė_ , what did I tell you inside?"

Mischa dropped the wood, startled by her brother, "To move the firewood."

"As much as you could carry. I didn't think I needed to add 'without hurting yourself'."

The girl looked away sheepishly as her brother gathered a small bundle of the discarded wood. He handed the light pile to her and kissed her forehead.

"There, take that inside and then come back for more."

Mischa nodded before asking quietly, "Are they still in there?"

Hearing the hint of far in his sister's voice made Hannibal furious and he had to restrain his over-protective instincts as he replied, "No, they aren't. You're safe, Mischa."

She smiled softly and rushed inside to discard the wood. Hannibal watched until she was inside before moving to the small woodshed to retrieve the ax that certainly resided within. He found it quickly on it's hook inside the door and returned to the front of the property.

The corpses were even more grotesque as they lay, naked, in the snow. Hannibal approached them and took a deep breath, readying himself for what he was about to do. He opened his eyes again as he raised the axe above his head, bringing it down the incredible speed at the first of the three bodies. At the last second, he panicked and closed his eyes again. He felt the ax his something and cautiously opened his eyes to find he had missed his target, only removing the top of the man's head rather than the whole thing. Frozen, lifeless brain fell from the cavity that was the man's skull. Hannibal reeled back, dropping the ax as he fell into the snow and was sick to his stomach. There was not much of anything in his stomach in the first place, but the pain of what did come back up took several moments to pass. Once it had Hannibal spared a look at his messy work.

 _This man is dead. You killed him. You need to follow through._

Hannibal's thoughts were far from relaxing, but steadied him enough to inspect the mutilated corpse. The skull cavity was fascinating, especially how it had collapsed on impact from the dull ax, causing the top of the man's face to fall inwards as well. It was almost beautiful as Hannibal got closer, analyzing every aspect of the body before him. His face was inches from the wound and he couldn't look away. It was as if any hint of fear or horror from the sight had voided itself alongside the few contents of his stomach, leaving only curiosity and fascinating in its place.

Hannibal was pulled out from his trance when he heard a door slam, and turned sharply.

Mischa stood in the doorway, her eyes were wider than ever as she looked at the scene.

"Mischa! Inside, now!"

The girl wasn't listening at all as she approached her brother in the snow. Hannibal had tried so hard to hide what he was going to do with the bodies, had wanted so much for her to remain ignorant of this kind of violence despite what had happened the previous night, and now it was all for naught. He watched his sister carefully as she approached much like a baby deer would. Her face one of shock but not a trace of fear was present.

"Mischa?"

Hannibal stood and hugged his sister close the moment she was within his reach. He held her tightly but saw she was not interested in him at all, but the body to their left. He tried to find her eyes, to see what was inside of them but their height difference posed a challenge so he knelt down.

"Mischa, look at me," Hannibal pleaded as he gently shook her. "Mischa."

"Did... did you do that?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes.

Hannibal flinched when he saw how blank they were. "Yes, Mischa. I did."

"Why?"

"Because..." he looked away, glaring in frustration as he fought for an answer. "Because this is what you need to do to a pig before you can eat it."

"Eat it?"

"Yes."

Hannibal looked at his sister again, wanting to know she understood without being afraid. Even he had to admit he was afraid that he had mistakenly stamped out the light in her beautiful eyes.

"Mischa?"

"Can I help you cook it?"


End file.
